Second Monday in Lent

“Let the arrogant be put to shame,
   because they have subverted me with guile;
   as for me, I will meditate on your precepts.” Psalm 119:78

in the bruised dawns,
as sirens moan fear
and the ground reels
from every pain imaginable,
we bring you, Tender God,
those names we dare not speak
especially those we do not know.
may the weapons of the proud
rust from the tears of parents,
may the lies crafted by the cruel
from the truth the world knows
not become seductive whispers.
may we—
the weary and the wary,
the hopeless and the hurting
lean into your whispers of grace,
cradling your words like seeds,
waiting for the courage to plant them
so they might bring a harvest of hope.
as we mark our lives
with the ashes of headlines,
may we keep walking
your path of patience,
becoming small lights of love
no shadows can swallow,
remembering that even now,
especially now,
your peace grows quietly
in all hearts which refuse
to hate.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Sunday in Lent

“Why are you cast down, O my soul,
     and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
     my help and my God.” Psalm 43:5

as we wake to numbing news
with images of rubble and death,
and worries of more destruction . . .
Holy Lamb of God,
take away our lust for war.
when we drive down streets
we usually avoid, where houses
are dilapidated, the residents
seem despondent, the folks
on the corner wave signs . . .
Holy Lamb of God,
take away the injustice
forced on other people.
while we shake our heads
at the cruelty which comes
off the tongue so easily
for those in power, as
our stomachs churn when
we hear the demeaning way
the privileged speak
of the forgotten . . .
Holy Lamb of God,
take away the hate of others.
and when we look into
the mirror of our souls . . .
Holy Lamb of God,
when we expect you
to do all the heavy lifting--
have mercy on us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Saturday in Lent

“You hate those who pay regard to worthless idols,
     but I trust in the LORD.” Psalm 31:6

i could gather up
all those trumped up
promises and re-sell them
online, knowing the fortune
i would make.
i could keep reading
the latest books or
attend the newest seminar
or follow the influencer
everyone else does, convinced
my church will triple in numbers.
i could market bumper
stickers from all those
platitudes preachers let fall
on peoples’ ears each week.
or
i could simply keep trudging
that long obedience
in the same direction
even if everyone else
thinks i am the only fool
to give it a try.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Friday in Lent

“Seek the LORD and his strength;
     seek his presence continually.” Psalm 105:4

it’s a mystery, God.
we can be drawn into
an online argument about
something we know little about
started by someone we don’t know,
but we’re going to jump in
feet first, all in—
but take the time for a breath,
to listen carefully to another,
practice that more needed now
than ever before peacemaking?
it’s a mystery, God.
even though
you’ve warned us time and again,
we keep turning down
Grudge Alley, hoping the bullies
will jump out and pummel us,
so we have an excuse to keep returning—
but stand there trying
to understand Jesus’ words,
though failing to realize that
forgiveness is not a math equation?
it’s a mystery, Lord,
how, where, why to seek you
but you have given us the clues
of grace, love, peace, justice
and so much more to solve it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Thursday in Lent

“Do not cast me off, do not forsake me,
     O God of my salvation!” Psalm 27:9c

when our cruelty bruises your mornings,
when creation sighs under our abuse,
when fear turns neighbors into strangers,
do not toss us aside,
God, whom we weary.
when we become more skilled
at building detention centers
faster than warming shelters,
as we so casually mistake
noise for today’s truth,
don’t give up on us—
but keep walking beside
the weary in hospital corridors,
listening to mothers in shelters,
sitting Shiva for dreams of justice
which die at the hands of indifference.
teach us to listen once again
not just with our ears, but hearts—
for the cry of the forgotten,
the persistence of peacemakers,
the songs of hope you plant
deep in the souls of little children.
as even our wilderness seems
to have become more barren,
gather us up—
our ashes as well as our anger,
our faults as well as our faith,
to show us the way into
the bright light of your love.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Second Wednesday in Lent

“A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, "If you choose, you can make me clean." Mark 1:40

it is a hope as old as dirt—
‘if you choose, you can make me clean.’
so, what will it be—
that careful distance allowing us
that safe place from the
those folks who make us uncomfortable
or a risky touch bringing healing
to a person standing in the dust
of brokenness?
will we keep silence which gives
injustice just the breath it needs
or dare we step bravely into
the challenges of our days?
should we keep those habits
who do nothing more than
numb us into insensitivity
or we kneel down, listen closely,
offering mercy to the forgotten?
as we walk the edges of ordinary days,
our hands cupping fear,
cramming worries into our pockets,
may we realize that love
can still reach out in these
confusing, terrifying, overwhelming
moments and perhaps
our small choice will become
that simple holy touch
that changes everything.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

First Tuesday in Lent

“Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” 1 Corinthians 1:20

when ash is drifting down on us,
and the bitter wind carries away
all our well-memorized answers,
do we need the smartest person
in the room,
or the one whose pain
is etched on their face?
when our hearts have crumpled,
every argument tossed aside,
with only a deep ache remaining,
do we need a summa cum laude
or the person who has had
a hope transplant done by the Spirit?
when we are made speechless
as we stand at the edge of the Skull,
truth splintering into pick-up sticks,
do we need a by-God spellbinder
or a little child with simple words?
like bread torn apart by unseen hands,
like light pouring into those
cracks we never notice,
gather up our knowing, God,
and unmake it by your grace—
peeling away that brilliance
blinding us to justice,
unraveling those Gordian knots
made of anger and arrogance,
turning our self-righteous piety
into fools gold with no value—
so that in our Lenten wilderness,
we might realize you are not
as dumb as we think you are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman